Love's proper antidote
fiction
edward w pritchard
Thoughts and emotions routinely arise in us; we know that. Love, compassion and altruistic behavior are thought to be among the highest emotions and are praised as an end to be achieved; a highest order goal for developed mature individual, leading to a tranquil soul.
Negative emotions such as anger and hatred are thought to be curable by cultivation of our noble emotions, such as love, compassion and altruistic behavior toward strangers.
If one does not think philosophically that a force such as Karma or sin causes or rules our thinking and emotions, is there any justification that the positive emotions are of the highest order, as if it is a ranking, or as a value judgment among the emotions.
If emotions and thoughts in humans are dictated by survival and as a proper reaction to circumstance, are the positive emotions more sacred or more legitimate than the destructive ones?
Nietzsche might speculate that Love and Hatred are beyond value judgments and beyond good and evil. The middle way, to seek a balance between your anger and altruism, might be examined. The stoic would not try to be good, but to strike a balance within themselves between good and evil.
What then our intentions? Does nature have rules that if we follow them we will be in harmony and achieve a tranquil soul? And God; has he updated the rule book lately? Does our world have an order?
Love's proper antidote? Contemplate impermanence and time's fast flying arrow and adopt the universal perspective. Put your self interests aside; as long as there is enough rice and beans to fill our corn tacos, peace reigns.
end
Friday, December 31, 2010
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Time's not real it's only in the mind
Time's not real it's only in the mind
fiction
edward w pritchard
Time's not real it's only in the mind, a category, devised by us as thinking creatures to organize what we find around us. That seems to be the consensus, except when confused by the theories of physics.
What of God? Part of his supernatural nature is his being outside of time, part of eternity. The alpha and the omega. Is God's reality eternally the present moment. Does God experience duration? Can an omnipotent being, experience anything as partially realized or incomplete?
Now as for space, God obviously ...
to be continued
fiction
edward w pritchard
Time's not real it's only in the mind, a category, devised by us as thinking creatures to organize what we find around us. That seems to be the consensus, except when confused by the theories of physics.
What of God? Part of his supernatural nature is his being outside of time, part of eternity. The alpha and the omega. Is God's reality eternally the present moment. Does God experience duration? Can an omnipotent being, experience anything as partially realized or incomplete?
Now as for space, God obviously ...
to be continued
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
reflections of Juliet
reflections of Juliet
fiction
edward w pritchard
Juliet, the actress had played Juliet the heroine of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet on and off Broadway for eleven years; and she was tonight thoroughly weary of her role. Romeo's bad breathe, her nurse's trite advice and the predictable ending to the angst and pains of her love life were sapping her will to continue playing the role of Juliet.
Tonight, far off Broadway, in the theater district of Cleveland, Ohio, here called playhouse square, Juliet did the unthinkable. Juliet left the stage about twenty minutes before showtime and took a seat in the third row of the audience. Sitting in the best seats, among the well dressed theater patrons, Juliet relaxed and prepared to enjoy the play. To Juliet's surprise when the curtain rose, she was staring at a large mirror, running completely across the front of the stage. Apparently every theater patron would watch themselves and their reflected image during the complete performance of Romeo and Juliet. Startled, Juliet wondered if in fact, in all the performances she had appeared in as Juliet, for the last eleven years, if the audience had been indeed staring at a large mirror of their own reflection; instead of watching her inspired performances.
With a long sigh, Juliet returned backstage and prepared for her entrance as Juliet, tonight here in Cleveland.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Juliet, the actress had played Juliet the heroine of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet on and off Broadway for eleven years; and she was tonight thoroughly weary of her role. Romeo's bad breathe, her nurse's trite advice and the predictable ending to the angst and pains of her love life were sapping her will to continue playing the role of Juliet.
Tonight, far off Broadway, in the theater district of Cleveland, Ohio, here called playhouse square, Juliet did the unthinkable. Juliet left the stage about twenty minutes before showtime and took a seat in the third row of the audience. Sitting in the best seats, among the well dressed theater patrons, Juliet relaxed and prepared to enjoy the play. To Juliet's surprise when the curtain rose, she was staring at a large mirror, running completely across the front of the stage. Apparently every theater patron would watch themselves and their reflected image during the complete performance of Romeo and Juliet. Startled, Juliet wondered if in fact, in all the performances she had appeared in as Juliet, for the last eleven years, if the audience had been indeed staring at a large mirror of their own reflection; instead of watching her inspired performances.
With a long sigh, Juliet returned backstage and prepared for her entrance as Juliet, tonight here in Cleveland.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Christmas in the field
Christmas in the field
fiction
edward w pritchard
Le Generale is very strict with us about appropriating supplies from the locals. We have been in the field for four full months and a soldier tends to loose his extra baggage over time. I was cold and lonely starring up at the stars and feeling a little pensive. It's surprising how cold it gets out here in the desert at night.
I had just found the bright planet Jupiter in the sky when the three other Welshmen in the unit came over to cheer me up. Edwards brought me a blanket, Pritchard brought me some wood he had scrounged up and Williams brought me some chocolate for cocoa. Those Welshmen, they will do about anything for a friend.
A couple hours later I woke up warm by my little fire, and wrapped in my new blanket. I began to fret about the comfort of my three Welsh friends. I made that long trek over to C Company and found Edwards, Pritchard and Williams and spent about an hour reading to them from my Gospel of Saint Matthew. Williams and Edwards sang a couple of songs and even the Muslims in the unit joined in singing traditional Christmas songs.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
Le Generale is very strict with us about appropriating supplies from the locals. We have been in the field for four full months and a soldier tends to loose his extra baggage over time. I was cold and lonely starring up at the stars and feeling a little pensive. It's surprising how cold it gets out here in the desert at night.
I had just found the bright planet Jupiter in the sky when the three other Welshmen in the unit came over to cheer me up. Edwards brought me a blanket, Pritchard brought me some wood he had scrounged up and Williams brought me some chocolate for cocoa. Those Welshmen, they will do about anything for a friend.
A couple hours later I woke up warm by my little fire, and wrapped in my new blanket. I began to fret about the comfort of my three Welsh friends. I made that long trek over to C Company and found Edwards, Pritchard and Williams and spent about an hour reading to them from my Gospel of Saint Matthew. Williams and Edwards sang a couple of songs and even the Muslims in the unit joined in singing traditional Christmas songs.
end
Friday, December 24, 2010
Christmas, December 25, 1683
Christmas, December 25, 1683
fiction
edward w pritchard
I am here to bless you my son said the Priest as he rolled the blanket down covering my nose and mouth. The Doctor had covered my face with the blanket, probably to keep me warm, after he deemed me too far gone to treat. For the last ten minutes despite my wounds and pain and the severe bleeding the thing that was bothering me was my treatment at the hands of the Doctor and his assistant. He is only a captain, I am a Colonel, imagine leaving a wool blanket over a man's mouth.
The Priest is no better. He's not even French, Spanish Basque I think. He has mistaken my attempts to communicate with religious fervor on my part. I cannot talk and my struggling to tell him about the Doctor's treatment has been misinterpreted by him as me trying to make amends with God. I can tell by the ridiculous look in his eyes. He's choking with glee.
Is this how I am to leave this world. The bleeding to death from three wounds is not so bad, our enemy were just doing their job, I have done the same many times
to others. It's the mistreatment and disrespect by your comrades that really hurts. Gods what a way to leave this world. I Henri, Leclerc deserve a better sendoff.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
I am here to bless you my son said the Priest as he rolled the blanket down covering my nose and mouth. The Doctor had covered my face with the blanket, probably to keep me warm, after he deemed me too far gone to treat. For the last ten minutes despite my wounds and pain and the severe bleeding the thing that was bothering me was my treatment at the hands of the Doctor and his assistant. He is only a captain, I am a Colonel, imagine leaving a wool blanket over a man's mouth.
The Priest is no better. He's not even French, Spanish Basque I think. He has mistaken my attempts to communicate with religious fervor on my part. I cannot talk and my struggling to tell him about the Doctor's treatment has been misinterpreted by him as me trying to make amends with God. I can tell by the ridiculous look in his eyes. He's choking with glee.
Is this how I am to leave this world. The bleeding to death from three wounds is not so bad, our enemy were just doing their job, I have done the same many times
to others. It's the mistreatment and disrespect by your comrades that really hurts. Gods what a way to leave this world. I Henri, Leclerc deserve a better sendoff.
end
Just a clerk at the convenience store
just a clerk at the convenience store
fiction
edward w pritchard
It was that special hour for those of us on the over-night shift. After the late late bar traffic finally somehow got home and before the old people started their day; 3:25AM to 4:25AM. Darci, a convenience store clerk after the hustle and bustle and constant stream of weird and sad people who inhabited the over night hours in Queens New York, looked forward to her hour of well deserved solitude.
A dozen people had stopped for directions, and five or six sneaked in to try to sell Darci valuable watches, for only five dollars each, from a display inside of the right side of their over coats. Darci was glad it was bitter cold tonight, it would drive the good people inside.
Sitting down, Darci had just began to thumb through one of the convenient stores magazines when a drunk and dis-shoveled man stumbled in about 3;30AM. He didn't look dangerous but he had been fighting, he had the remnants of a bloody nose and his army jacket was torn, as if some-one had held one side of it and thrown and twirled the man, presumably to the ground for his blue jeans were torn and dirty at the seat and knees. His wire rim glasses were bent and cracked.
The man wanted rum, coke and scotch. At least she surmised he did for he had a heavy British accent and was drunk and irritable. Every other thing he said was sarcastic and he made a lot of odd comments. He was a little unsure where he was, although he looked to be in his thirties, and kept joking about the date, December 23,1973. He kept saying it should be 1963.
There was no scotch so he asked for wine, Beaujolais 62, an inside joke he said. Finally he bought a few dollars worth of mints and candy bars and tried to pay with a hundred dollar bill. Rather he tried to pay with eleven hundred dollar bills because they came tumbling out of his pocket when he tried to find his wallet. Actually 2200 dollars in hundreds came out of the man's pocket in total, just before Darci got him to lay down for a few minutes in "her office", the small room behind the cash register at the convenience store there in Queens. She took the man's car keys out of habit for Darci had a lot of friends who drank a lot too, like this man, a mean drunk, and she wanted to protect him. Dropping hundred dollar bills wasn't safe in this neighborhood and the police would put him in the tank if they found him like this.
Darci had to move the car. A 1972 Chrysler Station Wagon. He had said there was a five in the glove box so Darci looked in. Three rolls of hundred dollar bills greeted her in the glove box. Each roll said 400 times 100, three rolls times $40,000 that's $120,000, he had $120,000 in his car. A to do list in the glove box said 1974 goals. There were three. Reconnect with true friends, Begin to write music again, and cut back on the drinking. A business card said John Lennon, ex-Beatle of New York and Liverpool. Darci hadn't recognized him.
Darci awoke Mr. Lennon about twenty minutes before the end of her shift, She helped him clean up his face a little and politely refused a few of the hundreds he tried to give her. Darci just a convenience store clerk was a fan and merely said take good care of yourself John, then he left.
Darci only visited once the Strawberry Fields Memorial to John Lennon in Central Park, New York, about a year after his death and continues to enjoy his music although she no longer works at a convenience store.
fiction
edward w pritchard
It was that special hour for those of us on the over-night shift. After the late late bar traffic finally somehow got home and before the old people started their day; 3:25AM to 4:25AM. Darci, a convenience store clerk after the hustle and bustle and constant stream of weird and sad people who inhabited the over night hours in Queens New York, looked forward to her hour of well deserved solitude.
A dozen people had stopped for directions, and five or six sneaked in to try to sell Darci valuable watches, for only five dollars each, from a display inside of the right side of their over coats. Darci was glad it was bitter cold tonight, it would drive the good people inside.
Sitting down, Darci had just began to thumb through one of the convenient stores magazines when a drunk and dis-shoveled man stumbled in about 3;30AM. He didn't look dangerous but he had been fighting, he had the remnants of a bloody nose and his army jacket was torn, as if some-one had held one side of it and thrown and twirled the man, presumably to the ground for his blue jeans were torn and dirty at the seat and knees. His wire rim glasses were bent and cracked.
The man wanted rum, coke and scotch. At least she surmised he did for he had a heavy British accent and was drunk and irritable. Every other thing he said was sarcastic and he made a lot of odd comments. He was a little unsure where he was, although he looked to be in his thirties, and kept joking about the date, December 23,1973. He kept saying it should be 1963.
There was no scotch so he asked for wine, Beaujolais 62, an inside joke he said. Finally he bought a few dollars worth of mints and candy bars and tried to pay with a hundred dollar bill. Rather he tried to pay with eleven hundred dollar bills because they came tumbling out of his pocket when he tried to find his wallet. Actually 2200 dollars in hundreds came out of the man's pocket in total, just before Darci got him to lay down for a few minutes in "her office", the small room behind the cash register at the convenience store there in Queens. She took the man's car keys out of habit for Darci had a lot of friends who drank a lot too, like this man, a mean drunk, and she wanted to protect him. Dropping hundred dollar bills wasn't safe in this neighborhood and the police would put him in the tank if they found him like this.
Darci had to move the car. A 1972 Chrysler Station Wagon. He had said there was a five in the glove box so Darci looked in. Three rolls of hundred dollar bills greeted her in the glove box. Each roll said 400 times 100, three rolls times $40,000 that's $120,000, he had $120,000 in his car. A to do list in the glove box said 1974 goals. There were three. Reconnect with true friends, Begin to write music again, and cut back on the drinking. A business card said John Lennon, ex-Beatle of New York and Liverpool. Darci hadn't recognized him.
Darci awoke Mr. Lennon about twenty minutes before the end of her shift, She helped him clean up his face a little and politely refused a few of the hundreds he tried to give her. Darci just a convenience store clerk was a fan and merely said take good care of yourself John, then he left.
Darci only visited once the Strawberry Fields Memorial to John Lennon in Central Park, New York, about a year after his death and continues to enjoy his music although she no longer works at a convenience store.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Frank and Joe Hardy plan to kill their friend Chet Morton
Frank and Joe Hardy plan to kill their friend Chet Morton
fiction
edward w pritchard
the following is a brief critical analysis of a certain genre of stories for boys, names and relationship are used solely as example, for literary criticism
Frank and Joe Hardy were planning how to kill their chums. Working feverishly in the 3rd floor kitchen, over the garage behind the house, and consulting their father's, the internationally known chef, Lorenzo's famous secret cook book, they planned revenge on the fat man, Chet Morton for going too far and his sneaky friend Italian Tony as well.
Chet had plans of his own. He and Tony swam underwater and entered the Frank and Joe's families mausoleum/boathouse and working in the freezing water began to remove most of the screws and nails holding the high powered boat together. Chuckling as he worked the good natured but fiendish Chet thought back on all the insults the two Hardy hooligans had laid on him. Many times his strong arms had saved those two when one or the other toppled over the rail into space but still they continued to dis- him. Let them try to race in this boat now, the "Sleuth" will disintegrate in mid race, Tony thought and laughed demonically as Italian's were wont to do especially, when working underwater.
Joe added the fifth layer of high calorie icing to the fat kids surprise cake and wondered how many slices it would take to kill the fiendish joker Chet Morton of hyper tension. No matter he would eat all the cake as usual. Hurry Joe, Frank exclaimed, we have to get to the boathouse before we go to the caves, and then the old mill and then the underground reservoir to find poison mushrooms for Chet's soup.
Chet and Tony's work was finished so Chet wrapped a large fish in Frank's football Jersey and headed for the high school in his prized jalopy the Queen, even though it had no transmission or rear wheels because it was as usual "all over the garage". As he drove Chet noticed proudly all the real estate for sale signs in the yards that bore his father's, the real estate broker's moniker. Maybe his Dad could get him a deal on plots for Frank and Joe to be buried in after he killed them, Chet thought.
Joe and Frank likewise headed for the high school with the cake for their obese chum. Joe carried the cake and Frank grabbed a shotgun to shoot Chet and Tony with in case their overly elaborate plan with the cake didn't work. Both drove a high powered motorcycle with one hand, Joe carrying a cake and Frank a shotgun, and so they waved only briefly to their favorite two chicks, pretty but demur Iola, Chet's sister, and the other girl Callie, Frank's chick,who were walking along the roadway, and taking chicken soup to a poor but deserving elderly citizen, They also saw a third older woman Aunt Gertrude heading out to meet the truck drivers at the no tell motel. As they rode background music played easy rider. As he rode Joe's cell rang and it was his dutiful and diminutive Mother, Laura reminding the lads that a delicious dinner would be late because their Father Lorenzo had been kidnapped again. Driving along, Joe said to Frank, its neat we got these motorcycles for coming up with a cure for cancer and riding along looking out at the gentle green ocean both chaps agreed that life was grand here in Bayport and life here was as it always should be.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
the following is a brief critical analysis of a certain genre of stories for boys, names and relationship are used solely as example, for literary criticism
Frank and Joe Hardy were planning how to kill their chums. Working feverishly in the 3rd floor kitchen, over the garage behind the house, and consulting their father's, the internationally known chef, Lorenzo's famous secret cook book, they planned revenge on the fat man, Chet Morton for going too far and his sneaky friend Italian Tony as well.
Chet had plans of his own. He and Tony swam underwater and entered the Frank and Joe's families mausoleum/boathouse and working in the freezing water began to remove most of the screws and nails holding the high powered boat together. Chuckling as he worked the good natured but fiendish Chet thought back on all the insults the two Hardy hooligans had laid on him. Many times his strong arms had saved those two when one or the other toppled over the rail into space but still they continued to dis- him. Let them try to race in this boat now, the "Sleuth" will disintegrate in mid race, Tony thought and laughed demonically as Italian's were wont to do especially, when working underwater.
Joe added the fifth layer of high calorie icing to the fat kids surprise cake and wondered how many slices it would take to kill the fiendish joker Chet Morton of hyper tension. No matter he would eat all the cake as usual. Hurry Joe, Frank exclaimed, we have to get to the boathouse before we go to the caves, and then the old mill and then the underground reservoir to find poison mushrooms for Chet's soup.
Chet and Tony's work was finished so Chet wrapped a large fish in Frank's football Jersey and headed for the high school in his prized jalopy the Queen, even though it had no transmission or rear wheels because it was as usual "all over the garage". As he drove Chet noticed proudly all the real estate for sale signs in the yards that bore his father's, the real estate broker's moniker. Maybe his Dad could get him a deal on plots for Frank and Joe to be buried in after he killed them, Chet thought.
Joe and Frank likewise headed for the high school with the cake for their obese chum. Joe carried the cake and Frank grabbed a shotgun to shoot Chet and Tony with in case their overly elaborate plan with the cake didn't work. Both drove a high powered motorcycle with one hand, Joe carrying a cake and Frank a shotgun, and so they waved only briefly to their favorite two chicks, pretty but demur Iola, Chet's sister, and the other girl Callie, Frank's chick,who were walking along the roadway, and taking chicken soup to a poor but deserving elderly citizen, They also saw a third older woman Aunt Gertrude heading out to meet the truck drivers at the no tell motel. As they rode background music played easy rider. As he rode Joe's cell rang and it was his dutiful and diminutive Mother, Laura reminding the lads that a delicious dinner would be late because their Father Lorenzo had been kidnapped again. Driving along, Joe said to Frank, its neat we got these motorcycles for coming up with a cure for cancer and riding along looking out at the gentle green ocean both chaps agreed that life was grand here in Bayport and life here was as it always should be.
end
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